


If You Need A Friend

by skimmingthesurface



Series: The Promise [2]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Clones, Dipper and Wirt are childhood best friends, Episode: s01e07 Double Dipper, First Crush, First Kiss, Foreigner, Gravity Falls Rewrite, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Preteens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 01:51:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skimmingthesurface/pseuds/skimmingthesurface
Summary: For Pinescone Week 2019Day 3: Double DipperWirt's spending his summer in Gravity Falls with his best friend, only for things to take a sour turn when said best friend develops a crush on the one and only Wendy Corduroy. It'll be okay though, this isn't the first time Dipper's had a crush on someone, so it's not like Wirt doesn't know how to handle this. Except he doesn't. Not at all. Especially not when he has a budding crush of his own...Part 2 in The Promise series. This is a rewrite of "Double Dipper."





	If You Need A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> _If you need a friend, don't look to a stranger_  
_You know in the end, I'll always be there_  
-When in Rome, "The Promise"

“Hey, Dipper! I found some of those popsicles with the awful puns you like so much.” Wirt was grinning as he scanned the aisles of the convenience store for his best friend. “There’s enough for us to have, like, ten each!”

With the lights on and food plentiful, the supposed haunted Dusk 2 Dawn didn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it had when they’d first pulled up. It wasn’t anything like the old, creepy house he and Dipper had explored as children on the inside, and honestly, though he’d been wary of them at first, he felt much safer with actual teenagers there. Just in case anything did happen. Not that it would, but in case it did. That was all.

When he poked his head around the corner, first catching a glimpse of Mabel sprawled out on the floor with packets of smile dip open all around her, Wirt heard Dipper’s familiar chuckle from somewhere above him. Beaming, he hefted up the box of popsicles, taking one out to offer him as he looked up, only to find that he wasn’t alone. Up on top of the shelves, Dipper was sitting with Wendy. Sharing popsicles.

“Dipper, this night is, like, legendary,” Wendy was saying to him, captivating Dipper’s complete attention almost instantly.

His face seemed to light up in the biggest, most hopeful smile Wirt had ever seen, but instead of feeling happy for him, all Wirt could really register was a sinking feeling in his stomach, heavy and sticky and not at all pleasant. He ducked behind the shelf, keeping out of their sight as he watched them, and pursed his lips tightly, forgetting all about the melting popsicles he’d gathered. Sure, he knew Dipper thought Wendy was cool - Wendy  _ was _ cool, after all - but he didn’t think Dipper  _ actually  _ liked her.

He had been acting weird though, just like that time he had a crush on that Sally from Cabin Three at sixth grade science camp. He’d stumbled all over himself and sweated a bunch and acted like a total idiot, but Wirt had helped him out by peeling an orange into the shape of a flower and made up a little poem on the spot for him to tell her so they could hold hands during the night hike. Except they didn’t end up holding hands during the night hike because Dipper had started worrying about Wirt not having a hand to hold on the night hike and getting scared and crying – even though Wirt wasn’t even scared or crying (yet) – and that was, according to Dipper, unacceptable and something he could not stand by and let happen in good conscious. So he’d held his hand instead.

Dipper hadn’t even been sad when they had to say goodbye to Sally from Cabin Three, too busy talking about all the cool things they’d learned at camp and how he was glad to be going back home so they could go back to their regular sleepovers where they slept in the same bed instead of in bunkbeds and not worry about getting teased for it because no one knew. Dipper had tried to climb into Wirt’s bunk, but when the other boys had laughed at them, both had decided that it would be best if they slept in their own bunks while at camp, but they’d also come to the conclusion that it was rather lonely, even if Dipper had only been in the bunk just above him.

Wirt felt a pang of that same loneliness even though Dipper was only just above him on the shelf. He pressed his lips together tightly, listening in on the conversation he was having with Wendy – or rather, more listening to Wendy talk and Dipper kind of say things in response that didn’t really sound altogether intelligent. When he hurried to volunteer himself to fetch more ice, Wirt found himself rubbing his chest to soothe the tightness he felt around his heart. He couldn’t really blame him for wanting to hang out with Wendy. Wendy was cool. Wendy was nice and funny. Wendy was older and Wirt knew how much Dipper wished they were older…

So he didn’t even try to squash down the flare of relieved satisfaction when he was the one Dipper ran to first for help when he saw a ghost in the freezer. This crush on Wendy wasn’t so big a deal, Wirt could handle it. He was still Dipper’s best friend, his number one second only to Mabel. Wendy wouldn’t change that.

Sure, it meant having to deal with the occasional ghost, but as long as they were together, they could handle anything.

\----

Wirt was trying not to pout as he manned the ticket table a couple nights later, stubbornly handing out correct change to the patrons of the Mystery Shack’s dance party. Alone. Without a best friend in sight.

Yeah, the whole not pouting thing wasn’t really working.

He didn’t want to be mad, after all he’d known going into this that Dipper had volunteered to work the ticket stand for a very particular reason and when that reason vanished, he’d been quick to follow. So he ditched him to hang out with Wendy, no big deal. Plus, he’d made the very convincing argument that he absolutely needed to put his plan into action so that he could dance with Wendy, a plan he’d put so much work into.

Normally, Wirt would be privy to assisting with such a scheme, but in this scenario he was needed for the “hold the fort, I’ll be right back, man” portion of the plan, which wasn’t a very fun portion at all. Not that Wirt was really all for this plan to begin with, but he still wanted to support his best friend. Because that’s what Dipper was, his best friend and he didn’t need to be jealous of the people that his best friend liked. He was supposed to be a good wingman, or something. Supportive and cool and the guy that helps Dipper get the girl at the end of the movie. He wasn’t supposed to be jealous. Jealous wasn’t supportive or cool or helpful and it wasn’t like _ he _ wanted to dance with Dipper. He didn’t like dancing. He didn’t like parties, so he should’ve been happy and relieved to be outside and not caught up in the middle of the party itself. He wanted to be out here. It was less noisy, less crowded, no one really paid him any mind aside from using him to get their tickets. Yeah. Yeah, no way did he want Dipper to ask him to dance at this party instead of Wendy.

Except, oh god, he did.

Wirt flushed darkly as he slumped forward, chin hitting the table as his lips thinned into a worried line. Here sat the twelve-nearly-thirteen-year-old Wirt, loather of parties and preteen culture, wanting his best friend, Dipper Pines, to dance with him at a party. It wasn’t only embarrassing, it went against everything he stood for. Not to mention it was only further confirmation that he was falling hopelessly in love with his best friend. His best friend who liked girls and was actively pursuing one while Wirt sat there and wallowed. It didn’t help that it was incredibly unlikely that Wendy would like Dipper back given their age difference, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Dipper’s feelings for Wendy were valid and likely left no room in his heart to even consider something like falling in love with his best friend. His best friend who was a guy and not a girl.

It was for the best that Wirt just give up on the whole idea now, before it was too late. He’d seen the rom coms and the vampire love stories Mabel made them watch with her while Dipper groaned and complained about all the inaccuracies. Though Wirt had been ultimately unimpressed with the latter, he knew that they got one thing right: the best friend never got the girl. Or boy, in this case. Unless Wirt was the girl character in this situation, then he might have a chance. Girl best friends seemed to get the boy more often than guy best friends got the girl.

Wirt’s brow furrowed as he took a break from his pity party. Why weren’t there any rom coms or vampire love stories with two boys falling in love? Or two girls even. He’d need to look into that. For research purposes.

“Hey, man!”

Wirt perked up instantly, Dipper’s voice the sweetest melody that he could never hope to reproduce on his clarinet, and he lifted his head to smile at him- only to blink in confusion. “Hi…?” he replied hesitantly, gaze locked on the number two scrawled on his hat instead of the pine tree he’d started to become so familiar with. “Why’d you change hats?”

Dipper’s eyes lit up. “Oh. You noticed?” He grinned, fiddling with the bill of his cap.

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. I mean it’s kinda… it’s kinda obvious.”

Dipper sank into the chair beside him, glancing over his shoulder at the window into the shack behind them before focusing on Wirt. “Would you believe me if I said _ technically _ I didn’t change hats?” 

Wirt was pretty sure he didn’t understand this game that his friend was playing at, and it had to be a game or a puzzle of some sort. Dipper looked too pleased with himself for it to be anything but. “Um… sure. Maybe?” 

Wirt frowned when Dipper’s gaze flicked through the window again, his attention clearly elsewhere. Was he just going to sneak back in there and try to dance with Wendy again? Wirt silently scoffed and followed his gaze, only for his eyes to widen as he caught sight of Dipper _ inside _ the shack. His eyes darted to find the Dipper sitting next to him, back to the Dipper inside, then to the one beside him again and it clicked.

“The copy machine?” he gasped. “You_ copied _ yourself? Dipper!”

“I know, isn’t it the perfect plan? Now I can be in two places at once!” he laughed, then blinked as something occurred to him and his smile softened. “Though I’m actually Tyrone, not Dipper.”

“Tyrone,” Wirt repeated.

“You know, to avoid confusion and stuff.” Dipper - Tyrone - waved his hand in the air as he propped his elbow up on the back of his chair. 

“So you’re… you’re the copy of Dipper…”

“C’mon, man, let’s use the word ‘clone.’ That sounds so much cooler than saying I copied myself.”

“But you _ did _ copy yourself. You literally used a copy machine and made a copy of yourself.” And it was the copy that Dipper decided Wirt was worthy of getting. Not the original. His Dipper. His Dipper was too busy trying to get Wendy to dance with him. 

Dipper’s - _ Tyrone’s _ \- face fell. “Hey, Wirt… are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay? It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” he grumbled.

“You’re definitely not fine.” Tyrone frowned. “Come on, man, you can tell me anything.”

“Can I? It’s not like it’s going to make a difference. You’re not even my actual best friend.” Dipper looked hurt and Wirt struggled to ignore that as he crossed his arms and slumped in his seat, glaring at the tabletop.

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Wirt tried to hold onto his own hurt feelings, but the silence that filled the space between them had his gut twisting with guilt. The pulsing of the bass in the song currently playing didn’t help with the churning feeling either. The vibrations rattled up from the soles of his shoes where they pressed into the dirt.

“I know you don’t like your step dad,” Dipper’s copy said after another minute, “and that you’ve played the clarinet since you were five. I know your favorite color’s always changing, but for the moment it’s orange and that you say you like trail mix because I do, but you only ever eat the M&Ms. And I know it’s hard for you to talk to people because you’re scared that they’re going to judge or leave you like your dad did.”

Wirt paled, his gaze snapping to the copy of his best friend, his eyes shadowed by his cap. “You-” His breath hitched when Dipper - _ Tyrone _ \- looked over at him, his eyes very much the eyes of the boy he’d known since first grade. “You know about the M&Ms?”

Tyrone’s lips twitched up. “_ That’s _ what you’re gonna pick up from that? Duh. Of course I know. You’re not exactly subtle, Wirt. And I know you better than anyone. And you know me, so you… you can still talk to me. I might not be Dipper Prime, but up until the moment he cloned himself, we have all the same memories. And you’re in most of them, all the important ones anyway.”

Wirt held his breath as his heart skipped a beat, his pulse loud and insistent. “You… you’re not actually calling yourself Dipper Prime, are you?”

“What? It was either that or Classic Dipper,” he huffed, his turn to cross his arms. “Actually, now that I think about it, I might like Classic Dipper a little bit better.”

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt couldn’t help a small, breathless laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“But it got you to smile.” Tyrone winked, aiming a pair of finger guns at him that he used to poke him in the sides to keep him giggling.

“Stop it.” Wirt swatted at him, his smile sticking around even after the poking stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I don’t know. Offend you or anything.”

“You didn’t.” Tyrone brushed it off, but Wirt simply raised an eyebrow and he caved. “Okay, maybe a little. But it was just weird because I’m not used to you talking to me like that. That was like… the way you talk to your step dad or Jason Funderberker or something.”

Wirt hunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just… mad you left me out here.”

Tyrone blinked. “I told you it was only gonna be for a minute.”

“I know, but…” Wirt sighed, his gaze drifting back to the window behind them, watching his Dipper attempt and fail to chat up Wendy and that weird Robbie kid. “I guess I’m not all that used to you having someone better to hang out with than me.”

Tyrone followed his gaze until the second half of his statement registered. His eyes widened and his lips parted on some kind of reassurance that Wirt would never hear, his attention quickly drawn back to the window. Robbie had apparently pulled a guitar out of nowhere, a bid to impress Wendy no doubt, and Dipper’s horrified, glassy-eyed expression led him to believe there was only one thing going on in his mind.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Tyrone asked and Wirt handed it over with a sigh.

“Jealousy fantasy?”

Tyrone flicked his gaze to him as he called himself, only managing a nod before confirming that on the phone with Dipper. A plan was quickly formed as the two Dippers shared the same idea. Tyrone hung up on a promise to meet Dipper Prime in Stan’s office. He gave back the cell phone and reached for Wirt’s hand without thinking. The clone was ready to bring him along, while his actual best friend hadn’t bothered. Wirt wasn’t sure if that meant anything, but he had a niggling feeling that it did. _ He just feels sorry for you. _

“Wait- won’t Stan notice if no one’s at the ticket booth?” Wirt pointed out.

Tyrone stilled, his fingers still wrapped around Wirt’s wrist. “Oh, right. Yeah.” He cast him an apologetic glance. “Look, I want to continue our conversation, okay? I really do, I just… I need to do this first. I owe it to myself. I think.” Tyrone’s brow creased in concentration, but he shook it off. It was easier not to think too hard on it. “I promise after we get Robbie out of the picture and get this whole dance with Wendy thing sorted out, then we’ll talk.”

Wirt pursed his lips, fighting hard not to let his chin quiver in the slightest. “Okay.”

Tyrone seemed to be facing the same battle. “She’s not better than you, you know. She’s just… it’s just different.”

“I know.”

Tyrone gave his hand a squeeze, then hurried off into the shack, leaving Wirt feeling much colder than he had after the first time he’d left.

He was also left on his own for much longer. Even when people stopped coming up to buy tickets, Wirt stayed where he was. He listened to the muffled music through the walls, Soos cycling through various synth pop sounds until it was time for the karaoke contest. But still no Dipper. Wirt hummed along as Mabel belted out a pretty impressive singalong to “Don’t Start Unbelieving.” The lights from the party flickered on the grass and Wirt watched until they became a blur of purples and pinks and blues.

A bike bell chime cut through his listless reverie and he glanced up to watch as two Dippers rode away on a bicycle. When Robbie came out shouting not seconds later, Wirt realized it was all part of the plan. He perked up. That meant Tyrone was coming back soon. Watching the door expectantly, he waited for the clone to make good on his promise.

But he didn’t.

_ Care to take a little time? A little time to think things over… _

Great. Now he was hearing Foreigner in his head again. 

It took him a minute before he realized it was coming from the party. Wirt sniffled, traitorous tears burning his eyes. He scrubbed at them with his sweater sleeve as a shudder ran through him. It was stupid. He knew Dipper liked Wendy and wanted to dance with her. He knew he’d never want to dance with him in a million years, no matter how well he knew him. This wasn’t the kind of song you danced to with your best friend. Especially when you were both guys.

_ In my life, there’s been heartache and pain. I don’t know if I can face it again. Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far. To change this lonely life... _

Wirt drew up his legs to wrap his arms around them, closing his eyes as he imagined how it would happen. He’d walk into the party, milling through the throng of slow dancing couples wrapped up in one another. Heads on shoulders, arms around waists. Wirt’s heart would flutter as he searched the dance floor for the only person that mattered. He’d find him on the couch, his head bowed and hands awkwardly fiddling in his lap. No one ever asked Dipper to dance at school dances, both of them always ending up sitting off to the side.

Well, not this time. No one put Dipper in a corner. Wirt would walk over to him, just as confidently as Patrick Swayze, stopping close enough that Dipper would catch sight of his mismatched shoes and lift his eyes. A sad, little smile would tug at his lips, a “hey, man” silenced by his outstretched hand. Dipper’s eyes would widen, his lips parting just like they had when the clone sat beside him at the ticket booth, but this time it would be in awe.

“Dance with me?” Wirt would ask softly, his fingers surprisingly steady and sure as Dipper’s curled around them.

“Yeah?” Dipper would breathe. “You actually want to dance with me?”

Wirt would only smile and tug him up, leading him to the center of the dance floor. Their fingers interlaced, one hand on Dipper’s shoulder as a hesitant touch settled at his waist. Dipper’s fingertips fluttering like nervous butterflies. 

_ I want to know what love is, I want you to show me. I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me. _

Then they’d sway, eyes only for each other. Half-lidded and hazy, Dipper’s would fill with a love that rivaled his own-

Was it love? Was he really, truly in love with his best friend? Wirt came out of the daydream with a heavy, hammering heart. His hand pressed over his chest as he imagined Dipper’s hand there instead, his own fingers too preoccupied playing with the cute little bow tie that was Dipper’s way of dressing up…

He wanted that. Wirt glanced back into the party. Maybe… maybe if the dance with Wendy didn’t work out, well then Dipper would need his best friend to cheer him up, right? To pick him up, remind him that someone wanted him. Even if it wasn’t who Dipper wanted, it had to mean something, right?

Wirt sucked in a deep breath, then stood from the table. Like Mabel’s karaoke song had declared, don’t start unbelieving. Never don’t not feel your feelings. It was now or never.

Marching right into the Mystery Shack, his confidence was shaken a bit when the song changed and Foreigner was no longer there to back him up. Wirt wrung his hands together, gaze scanning the crowd in search of Dipper - or even Tyrone because maybe he’d know where Dipper was. He spied him over by the DJ table. Eyes brightening, Wirt started over for him, then realized his hat did not have a pine tree or a number two.

No, this was hat number ten.

“_Ten _ clones?” Wirt wheezed, his eyes bugging out of his head as he took three steps back. “Dipper, what the heck are you _ thinking _?”

“Who are you talking to, cutie?” A deep, loud voice scared him into bolting for the stairs, no idea who the strange girl with the lizard on her shoulder was or why she felt the need to talk to him. “Well, isn’t he skittish.”

As he darted up the stairs, Wirt slammed into someone running just as fast down them. Wirt flailed, arms pinwheeling as he fell backwards and tumbled down several steps. He’d fallen down worse things - like falling hopelessly in love with his best friend - but he still groaned as he pushed himself up off the landing.

“You pushed Wirt down the stairs?” Dipper’s voice shrieked, except the Dipper who said it wore a number two on his hat. “What’s _ wrong _ with you?”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” The Dipper who wore the pine tree hat kicked helplessly as he was hoisted up by two other Dippers, a seven and an eight. They dragged him back to the top of the stairs, and the frowns on their faces made them look anything but friendly or helpful. “Wirt, help!”

“Wirt, are you okay?”

“Is anything broken?”

“You scared me, man!”

What felt like dozens of Dippers swarmed him, and the sheer number reaching for him scared him into skittering back into a corner. “I- what- what’s going on?”

“It’s okay.” Tyrone crouched down beside him, one hand on his arm as the other cupped his cheek. “Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t know.” Wirt stared past him at all the Dippers with all their numbers. “Oh my gosh. I’m seeing… what’s double when it’s ten?”

“Decuple,” Dipper with a number nine answered. “Although technically you’d be seeing octuple since Three and Four aren’t here.”

“Nyah-nyah-nyah.” A gurgle sounded from the top of the stairs where a very crumpled looking version of Dipper stared down at him.

“Whoops. Sorry, Paper Jam Dipper,” Nine called up to him. “Nonuple. There’s technically nine of us.”

“Nyah-nyah-nyah?” Paper Jam Dipper waved at him, and Wirt wasn’t sure if he actually had hit his head or if he just knew Dipper that well, but he could sense the concern the misshapen version of his friend had for him.

“I’m okay,” he assured him, then looked at the rest of the Dippers hovering around him. He’d wanted Dipper’s attention, yeah, but this was a little ridiculous. “Seriously, uh… guys? I’m- I’m okay.”

Tyrone helped him up, and Wirt wondered if the other clones had been given names. He didn’t know if there were any other names Dipper had always wanted, Tyrone always his go-to whenever they made up names for their adventuring personas as kids. Tyrone’s arm immediately wound around his waist, pulling him close and providing support in case his clumsy friend needed it. 

“I’ve got you, man. Don’t worry.”

Wirt glanced up the stairs at Classic Dipper - his Dipper - and paled as he watched his best friend struggle in the iron grip Seven and Eight had him in. “What’s- what’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“We’ve got everything under control.”

“It’s okay, Wirt. There’s nothing to see here.”

“Why don’t you and I,” Tyrone cut in, turning Wirt away from the stairs, “continue that talk we were having? I’m sorry it took so long. Classic Dipper went rogue on us and totally ruined the plan.”

Wirt glanced back over his shoulder, digging his heels into the ground. “He did?”

He knew all about the massive list he had folded up in his vest pocket, exceptionally detailed and always aware of any possible variables to thwart his plan. Which is what he guessed happened in this case. A variable - in this case, Dipper himself - had thrown a wrench in his own plan. His heart fluttered with hope. Maybe his Dipper didn’t like Wendy anymore?

“Wait, wait, wait- you were having a talk with Wirt?” Dipper number five started fidgeting and sweating. “What were you talking about? I don’t remember that.”

The other Dippers all murmured in agreement while Tyrone sighed and rolled his eyes. “Guys, that’s because you were all cloned from Classic Dipper and he didn’t know about the talk because he wasn’t there. Look, it’s fine. You guys figure out who’s going to dance with Wendy while I go with Wirt, okay?”

“Why do you get to go with Wirt? You already got to talk to him, one of us should get a chance, right guys?” Dipper Six protested, the other Dippers all in agreement.

Tyrone’s grip on him tightened and Wirt felt a chill roll down his spine. The clones were _ all _ going rogue. Wirt caught his Dipper’s eye, communicating wordlessly through looks alone. How did Dipper not anticipate this? They’d watched enough sci-fi movies in their time to know this was the most likely outcome. Clones never ended well.

His Dipper shrugged weakly. _ I thought it wouldn’t happen to me_. Wirt rolled his eyes. Of course he thought he was too smart for the clone trope.

“You don’t even know what our conversation was about,” Tyrone pointed out. “It doesn’t make sense for any of you to talk to him. Stick to the plan, guys.”

“You know…” Nine narrowed his eyes. “I think being around the longest is going to his head.” The other Dippers murmured in agreement.

Tyrone backed up, taking Wirt with him as he kept him close. He smelled like ink and the inside of a new book. Nothing like what he was used to. Well, the ink he was used to, but his Dipper always smelled like the laundry detergent Mrs. Pines used, bug spray, apple slices, and a little bit sweaty, but not in a bad way. Oh, god, he was really in over his head if he thought the smell of his best friend’s sweat wasn’t that bad.

“Guys, don’t do this. Remember the plan,” Tyrone urged.

“To heck with the plan!” Nine shouted.

Wirt gasped as they charged, Tyrone yanking on his arm to drag him away from the clone mess. They ran right past the dance floor, everyone luckily distracted by the dance off Mabel was in the midst of. Wirt stumbled to keep up as he and Tyrone bolted outside. They ran around the shack towards the gift shop, but Wirt’s other hand was yanked on before he’d even crossed the threshold. Tyrone’s grip on him slipped, his expression horrified as Wirt was dragged away by another one of the clones.

“W-wait!” Wirt tried to dig his heels into the ground, pulling away from Five until his hold broke.

Five blinked at him, then looked hurt. “What? You don’t want to be friends with me anymore just because I wasn’t here first? Or second?”

An ache blossomed in Wirt’s chest as he shook his head, still backing away. “No, that’s not it at all. I just-” More Dippers rounded the corner, but he couldn’t tell if any of them wore a pine tree cap instead of a number. “It’s just- there’s a lot of you and I…”

Six grabbed at him next, Nine shouting at him indignantly as he went to hug him, but Ten was already holding onto his waist. Tyrone tugged on his sweater from behind and Wirt’s panic reached an all time high. Which Dipper would never be okay with.

That gave him an idea.

“_ Ow_!” Wirt cried out, and all movement stopped. A chorus of “are you okay” echoed around him, and he held his own arm for dramatic effect. “No, you’re hurting me,” he snapped, glaring at the clones. They all stepped away from him as guilt rippled across their features. “This was a stupid idea, Dipper. And I’m talking to all of you.” Wirt angled away from them. “You don’t need ten of yourselves to win someone over. That just makes you look like a self-absorbed jerk.”

“You… you really think that?” Six’s lip quivered as his eyes welled up.

Wirt leveled his stare on him. “Look, you’re my best friend and I love you, but you’re making it really hard when you decide you’d rather get help from yourself than from your best friend.”

They all shuffled their feet, heads bowed in shame. “You’re mad. Why didn’t I know you were mad?” Nine asked.

“Because I was a self-absorbed jerk,” Tyrone sighed from behind him. “I should’ve seen that something was bothering you sooner. I felt bad about that, so I wanted to get back to you and finish our conversation, but then the plan fell through and… and Dipper didn’t even care that he didn’t just sacrifice the plan, but he sacrificed you, too. I mean, I guess Classic Dipper didn’t know how upset you were, but… Ugh. Like, the only reason I wasn’t out there with you was so I could dance with Wendy, and then we didn’t even get to do that, so I- I lost it, I guess.” Tyrone rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Wirt.”

Wirt’s glare softened, his shoulders losing their defensive hunch as he shifted his gaze to the other Dippers. His wasn’t there, Seven and Eight only just getting there. They read the room pretty quickly though and stayed quiet and solemn.

Wirt pursed his lips. They may not have been his Dipper, but they came from him and they shared his memories. They weren’t only a Wendy-obsessed mob or a cloud of jealousy. They were all a version of his best friend, his most important person. He couldn’t bear the thought of upsetting any of them, not when they all looked like him.

He took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s okay. You didn’t know I was mad because I didn’t say anything. And I wasn’t… it’s not really mad, it’s just…”

“You feel like I’m leaving you behind, huh?” Five piped up, his brow creasing in concern as Wirt nodded and hugged himself.

“I’m just scared I can’t keep up and you’ll realize… I’m not worth waiting for anymore. But it’s stupid, I know.”

The Dipper clones all looked to one another, each one of the silent as they waited for someone to say something. Six broke the spell, with his wounded eyes, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Wirt and give him the hug he craved. It smelled like paper and ink, it didn’t feel as warm as his best friend’s arms, but it was a Dipper hug. He squeezed him firmly, coaxing his arms to hug him back. Another Dipper came up to hug him, the rest quickly following suit as they surrounded him in their best attempts to comfort him.

“Of course you’re worth it. You’re my best friend.”

Wirt didn’t know which number told him that, but he realized it didn’t really matter. It was Dipper saying it, even if it wasn’t his Dipper in this moment. They all had his memories, his thoughts and his jealousy fantasies. They had his heart.

In an instant they were all soaked. 

Wirt blinked, his hair dripping into his eyes as a chorus of gasps broke out around him. Each of the Dipper clones started to bubble up, their bodies melting into a puddle of wet paper at his feet. His chest tightened as they all looked to him sadly. 

The clone arm from earlier had melted when Dipper poured soda on it. Liquid melted the clones. Wirt looked up, spying his Dipper in the pine tree hat standing on the roof of the Mystery Shack, the punch bowl from the party in his hands, empty as he tossed it aside.

“Leave him alone!” he shouted down at them, furious fire in his eyes as he glared at them all. “Hang on, Wirt. I’ll be right down!”

“Well, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later,” Nine rationalized with a shrug even as his mouth drooped at a disturbingly lopsided angle.

“I’m sorry, Wirt,” Five piped up.

“Me too.”

“Tell Classic Dipper how you feel, man.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“I love you.”

They were just clones, made from paper and ink and an old copy machine, but Wirt’s eyes filled with tears as the last of the numbered hats melted away. It was the only solution, they couldn’t have so many Dippers living under one roof. But it still hurt to lose even a small part of him.

“Wirt?”

Sniffling, Wirt turned around to find Tyrone still standing behind him, just on the edge of the splash zone. “Tyrone?”

His eyes widened. “You’re crying for them? But they…”

Wirt tried to wipe at his eyes with his sweater sleeve, but it was soaked in fruit punch and ended up a rather fruitless endeavor. “They were you. In the end… they were all you, so I- no, wait!” Wirt held up his hands as Tyrone stepped forward, arms reaching for him. “I’m wet, you’ll dissolve!”

Tyrone stilled. “It’s bound to happen sooner or later,” he told him softly. “You know I can’t stick around, Wirt.”

“I know.” 

It wasn’t Foreigner that they could hear from inside the shack, but it was an 80s love ballad, the dance off likely finished. Wirt took a shaky breath and stepped forward to join Tyrone outside of the puddle. His big, wondering eyes watched him curiously, and Wirt saw the exact moment he caught on when his breath hitched.

Wirt held his hand out to him. “Will you dance with me?” he asked.

Tyrone’s teeth sank into his lower lip - the nervous habit he loved most in his Dipper - and he nodded. Their hands touched and Tyrone’s skin began to sizzle. Wirt almost backed away, but Tyrone looped his arm around his waist before he could.

“It’s okay,” he soothed him. “It’s okay. A dance with you… that’s how I want to go.”

“I know I’m not Wendy,” Wirt sniffled.

Tyrone shook his head. “You don’t have to be. You just have to be you.”

They pressed close, more of Tyrone steadily melting away thanks to the punch still dripping off Wirt’s hair and sweater. A smile tugged at Tyrone’s lips as they swayed together. Wirt’s heart fluttered. It wasn’t the dance he dreamed of, or the Dipper, but the fact that it was something his clone could enjoy in his final moments… well…

Wirt’s gaze fell to Tyrone’s lips as the clone began to sink into his own puddle in the grass, then made a decision. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been hit with a sudden wave of confidence or if it was just reckless abandon - his only chance - but he pressed his lips to the clone’s before he disappeared for good.

It was his first kiss. Their first kiss. Neither he nor Dipper had ever…

He felt him gasp against his mouth, felt his wide eyes on him even while Wirt’s closed as he savored the moment. The contact was light, a little sticky from the punch and paper, and most people probably wouldn’t consider a brush of lips so gentle to be an actual kiss, but Wirt did. He absolutely did.

“Wirt…” Tyrone breathed as he pulled back.

He opened his eyes in time to see the rest of the clone sink down into the grass, the thick, black sharpied number two the last thing he could see until he completely dissolved. Wirt pursed his lips, but he couldn’t taste anything but punch. Releasing a shaky breath, he looked around at all the puddles and wondered at what point does something become murder.

But then Dipper burst out from inside the gift shop. “Wirt! Are you okay?” 

Before he could respond, he was nearly knocked off his feet when Dipper practically tackled him, heedless of the punch. When his arms tightened around him, he didn’t dissolve, his body firm and warm and a little bit sweaty as he pressed against him. Wirt’s heart leapt into his throat as he hugged him back, squeezing just as tight.

“Yeah,” he mumbled into his shoulder, breathing him in. “I’m okay.”

Dipper pulled back, his hands still gripping Wirt’s shoulders as he looked him over. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to drag you into this mess. I mean, I figured they wouldn’t hurt you because they were me, but still I… that got a little too crazy, huh?”

“Yeah.” Wirt managed a small smile as he reached out to fix his baseball cap. “I’m sorry your plan didn’t work with Wendy.”

Dipper shrugged, letting him go to shove his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, well… I realized maybe I spend a little too much time planning and not enough time… living in the moment, or something like that.”

“I don’t know about that.” Wirt shrugged back. “I like your plans. I mean, not… not this one. This was a dumb plan,” he clarified. “But most of them, I like.”

Dipper’s smile brightened, a soft laugh spilling out. “Yeah, no. This was seriously the dumbest plan.”

“I don’t think you could ever top this.”

“Oh, don’t test me, Wirt.” Dipper slung his arm around his shoulder as they headed back into the gift shop, though he winced when he realized just how much of him was covered in punch. “Gross, man. You’re soaked!”

“Yeah, and who’s fault was that?”

“Hey, I was trying to rescue you from a horde of evil clones.”

“Evil clones you created.”

“I was trying to right a wrong, Wirt. I was righting a wrong.”

“Yeah, well you owe me a new sweater.”

“Meh. Just pour some soda on me and we’ll call it even.”

Wirt looked him up and down, his bow tie a little crooked, but otherwise no worse for the wear. “Wait… don’t you still want to try and dance with Wendy?”

He shrugged, glancing down at his feet. “Nah. I saw her talking with Robbie again while I was stealing the punch bowl. I think it’s too late.”

Part of Wirt felt like cheering, like spinning Dipper around for a celebratory dance of their own, but another part felt too sad to even try. Not sad because he wanted Dipper to be with Wendy, but sad because Dipper was sad. As much as he wanted his best friend to himself, he didn’t want it to be at the expense of doing something he wanted. It felt like so much of their friendship had been like that, Dipper sacrificing what he wanted so he could keep Wirt around.

Maybe Wirt wasn’t the only one who was afraid of being left behind and abandoned.

“I… I don’t,” Wirt piped up, stopping just outside the door that led to the party. Dipper cast him the most disbelieving look he could muster and he fumbled to say something else. “I mean it! You… you’re not the kind of person who just gives up. And the party’s not over yet.”

Though most of the party-goers had vacated the Mystery Shack, a few people still remained, one of those people being Wendy. Dipper bit down on his lip, glancing Wirt’s way. Gesturing towards the dance floor, Wirt offered him a small, but hopeful smile. 

“Go rogue, Dipper.”

Dipper huffed and shook his head, but the slight curve of his lips showed just how amused he was. “I guess we did have a pretty good conversation when I wasn’t all in my head.” Worry flickered back in his eyes. “But I don’t know. Do you think I even have a chance with her? She’s fifteen and I’m twelve.”

Wirt wanted to say no, that there wasn’t a chance because he didn’t want there to be a chance. “I don’t know,” he told him instead, because he wanted Dipper happy more than he wanted Wendy out of the picture. “Anything can happen. But you won’t know unless you try, right?”

“I guess…” Dipper took out his plan and unfolded it bit by bit. They both looked at it for a long moment. “I just really like her, Wirt,” he told him softly.

Wirt rubbed his back in gentle circles. “I know you do.”

“I don’t want to mess this up.”

“I don’t think you will.” Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Wirt gave Dipper a firm pat. “I’m gonna go shower off all this punch. You go talk to Wendy and you can tell me all about it when I’m done. Okay?”

Dipper looked out at the dance floor, then back at Wirt. “Thanks, man. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His smile grew as he ripped his plan in two. “Who needs a dozen clones when you’ve got the best friend in the universe?”

“Can you go back in time and tell yourself that before you made the decision to copy yourself?” Wirt teased, then accepted the plan when it was handed to him. “Good luck- oh wait!”

Dipper paused and Wirt crumpled the paper and shoved it in his pocket so he had both hands free. He carefully adjusted Dipper’s bowtie, straightening it out against his collar. Tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth, he dusted off his shirt and vest as well until he looked as smooth as Dipper wanted to be.

“There. Perfect.”

Dipper tipped the bill of his cap in his direction as a thank you, then the boys started to go their separate ways. “Wait, wasn’t there something you wanted to talk about?”

Wirt paused halfway up the stairs, glancing down at him as he shook his head. “It can wait,” he assured him. “We’re not going anywhere.”

As long as he could keep convincing himself of that, he’d try to make it through this Wendy thing. Maybe it would pass, just like Sally from science camp. Until then, he’d be there for him, so he wouldn’t feel the need to clone himself just to have someone on his side.


End file.
